


Grading on a Curve

by firefright, Skalidra



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Dick's never been one to admit when he's taken on too much. However sleep-deprived he has to be, however much he has to throw himself into studying, he's always managed to make it through. So maybe his class-load is a little heavy, and maybe he hasn't been doing as well as he'd like. At least one of his professors is helpful (and way too attractive for Dick's own good).





	Grading on a Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to trope-center, where Skali and Fire take on the 'Teacher/Student' story type, with all of its associated bad-wrong attraction and hot professors. Enjoy, dears! (We had quite a bit of fun with this. ... We have quite a bit of fun with just about everything, honestly.)
> 
> There is fanart for this fic by the wonderful wantstobelieve on tumblr. [You can find it here!](http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/172973557862/you-have-a-beautiful-mouth-grayson-slade)

Dick knows it's a bad idea long before anything ever actually happens. The only place that professor/student relationships work out is cheap romances, and that's Jason's choice of genre way more than his; he's a romantic most times, sure, but he's not quite that naive. At least, he'd like to think that he's not. (Maybe his relationships with Barbara and Kori do kind of point to him being… more romantic than is good for him. Sometimes.)

But Professor Wilson is… fuck. _Hot_. Attentive. More of a distraction than he needs right now. Also maybe the only thing keeping him from buckling under the stress of his classes. The leaning against his desk, looking down at his work and making small, guiding comments, is a lifesaver, and the light touches to his shoulder, the back of his hand, ground him in a way that not much does right now. Even better is the five or so minutes that Professor Wilson ( _"Slade is fine, Grayson. No need to be so formal."_ ) takes after class, talking about his week, his life, his current homework. (And if Professor Wilson gives him a few tips about other classes, well… that helps too.)

He probably shouldn't have taken quite so many, but if he can just make it through this semester then he can have the summer to relax. At least a little bit. Just a tiny bit of a break before he starts the fall semester and gets back to it. Just one more year until he can be finished with college and move on to the rest of his life. Just a little longer before he can prove to everyone that he's more than just Wayne's ward. It's not that much longer.

Then, just after midterms, he gets an email. It's not an unfamiliar one; his professor's emailed him enough times before this for it to be a normal occurrence, but what it says… Wilson wants to speak with him. Privately. In his office.

Dick had a… a suspicion that he didn't do all that well during their last test, but he didn't think it was that bad. But, if it _was_ that bad, how would he know? They haven't gotten their results back yet, he hasn't _seen_. If he's failed this one, what about the next? Or the midterm? (What if he fails the _class?_ )

He can't do anything but go; and he's kind of thankful that no one sees his walk of shame through the halls; they're mostly deserted, and the people who are there don't spare him as much as a glance. No one wants to share the nerves of having to go visit a professor in their office. Especially not this early into the semester. These are the people that are dropping out before they get a failing grade instead (the ones who picked up too much to handle, and Dick's trying not to see the resemblance there).

He knocks on the door, trying not to fidget while he waits for an answer out of the room within. It takes a minute but then the door’s swinging open, and despite all the nerves twisting up his stomach right now, Dick can’t help relaxing a little as soon as he sees Professor Wilson. ”Professor, I…”

“Right on time, Grayson.” Is the smiling response before he even has chance to get his words out. “Come on inside.”

Dick nods acceptingly, stepping forwards as the professor makes room for him to get through the doorway. He feels the friendly push of a large hand against the small of his back as he walks deeper into the office, as well as the sound of the door falling closed again behind him, before Slade is brushing past him, walking round to sit on the edge of his desk.

He nods to the chair in front of it. “Take a seat.”

The chair is just a simple, armless one, and Dick follows the instruction to sit down. It puts him below Slade, looking up, and this is probably a very bad time to notice how very _long_ the leg that Slade has touching the ground is, or how the simple, dark slacks pull tight against the muscle of his thigh. Dick swallows, and forces himself to look up and absolutely _not stare_ at the gap created by the top few inches of skin below Slade's neck exposed by the unbuttoned shirt. Slade's single eye is a safer place for his gaze to be.

“Sir,” he begins cautiously, “What’s this—”

“It’s Slade, Grayson.”

“Slade,” he says with a small flush, thinking as always of asking Slade to call him Dick, and as always shying back from it. Addressing his professor by first name already feels like it crosses a boundary, and to have Slade call him by his own would probably cross at least two more. It’s better, he tells himself, they keep at least some professional distance. For his own sanity, if nothing else. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did,” Slade agrees, “It’s about your last test.”

Dick’s heart jumps into his mouth. The jaws of failure suddenly open up beneath him, ready to swallow him up. He forces himself to say carefully, neutrally, “What about it?”

One eyebrow rises, and Dick winces when Slade says, “I think we both know.” His tone is slightly disappointed, and that makes Dick squirm even more than being caught out on his faked nonchalance. “Grayson, I’ve noticed you’ve been tired recently. Distracted. Is there something going on in your life? Troubles with a girl? Boy?”

Dick stalls for a moment at that inclusivity, taken off guard, but then swallows and manages to answer, “No. No, I— I’m just in a lot of classes right now and it’s… harder than I thought it would be. I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I—”

“Grayson.”

Dick’s mouth clicks shut at that utterance of his name, and Slade shifts, gives a soft sigh as his arms cross.

“Kid, with the way your grades have been sliding downhill, you’d have to ace every test left, including the final, to still get top marks. Otherwise, you’re looking at somewhere around a C, and that’s only if you clean up your act from now on. If you don’t…” Slade shakes his head, gaze falling to the side, disappointment creeping back into his tone. “I’d hate to fail you, Grayson.”

The breath Dick takes is deep, and he finds his hands lifting, raking back through his hair and tugging at it. “I— I’m sorry, Slade. I…” He swallows again, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Maybe… I’m so sorry, but maybe I can— I can drop the class; take it again next semester? I would never do this, normally, but— I just—” He can’t find an end to that sentence that sounds anything but pathetic.

“We’re past the point of acceptable class drops,” Slade tells him, voice still quiet. “You still can, but it’ll go on your record. Is that what you want to do?”

All he can manage is a helpless-feeling, “No.” He lifts his head, forces his eyes open to look up at Slade. The arms aren’t crossed anymore, at least, and the expression no longer holds disappointment in him. “Is there anything I can do? Extra credit assignments? A retake? _Anything?_ ”

Slade slips off the edge of the desk with another small sigh, circling around Dick’s back to get to the window beside him, staring out for a moment and then reaching out to close the blinds on it. The room seems suddenly, significantly darker, and Dick blinks up at Slade as he turns, one hand reaching out to clasp his shoulder as Slade moves back around his chair. The fingers squeeze tight for a moment before letting go, fingertips sliding along the upper line of his back before coming to rest at his opposite shoulder, where Slade’s drawn to a stop, looking down at him.

“Most of the problem lies with your latest test; the rest can be worked past with a bit of dedication. I’ve seen the results, but they haven’t been inputted into my records yet, like the others.” Slade’s voice drops, as he gently squeezes Dick’s shoulder and murmurs, “I like you, kid. I wouldn’t offer this to anyone else — it could cost me my job if anyone found out — but if you’re really, completely sure that this is what you want, I can let you retake the test.”

Dick’s breath catches, hope soaring high in his chest as he stares up. Slade’s hand slips slightly upward as his sudden, sharp breath shifts it, and the line of one warm finger brushes his neck where the collar of his shirt ends. It’s ridiculous, it’s inappropriate, but he feels his face flush at that contact, and his throat go tight. It’s all he can do to not turn into that touch and make it more.

“I’d need you to be sure,” Slade is saying, voice still that low murmur, “and I’d need to know that you’re committed to this. I’d be very disappointed if I took a risk for you and you ended up failing anyway. I need you to convince me that you’re worth the extra effort I’d be putting in, Grayson.”

He swallows away the tightness, turning a bit in his chair so he can look up at Slade more squarely. “How?”

Slade squeezes his shoulder, and offers a barely-there smile. “You’re creative. Passionate. I’m sure you can come up with something that proves you’re willing to go that extra mile.”

“I…” He begins, before trailing off almost immediately.

Something… something to convince Slade he’s worth the risk. That if he lets him resit the exam, he won’t fail. Or even if he does fail…

Dick can feel himself sweating in the confined space of Slade’s office as his mind races with possibilities, almost all of them dismissed outright as too ridiculous or far-fetched to fit the situation. His foot beats a rapid tempo against the floor as an outlet for stress-induced energy, while his fingers dig hard into the flesh of his thighs in a vain effort to control it.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to—

Then Slade’s hand slides up his shoulder to the base of his neck. High enough that the pad of his thumb can press against Dick’s jaw. “Easy,” is the low murmur, as he stares upwards, as that thumb rubs a tiny, idle circle against his skin. “I’m sure you can figure something out, Grayson.”

His breath catches in his throat at that touch. For a moment, all Dick can do is stare up at Slade in stupefied realisation.

It can’t be. He can’t possibly mean…

But the thumb is still there. Slade is still there, the lean of his body close and personal. The way his eye stays focused on Dick, unmistakably intimate. And Dick’s mind flashes back to a hundred other casual touches exchanged between them, suddenly looked on in a new light.

“Slade…”

Dimly, Dick realises he’s now standing on a precipice. The edge of the trapeze platform, with the circus ring far below. Take one step off and he’ll either fall or fly.

The only question is, which option is which? He knows… he knows he finds Slade attractive, God, has he ever since the first day he walked into class, but _this_ (if he is reading the situation right) is a whole other level. It’s wrong, it’s inappropriate, to do what he thinks Slade’s hinting at him to do, for the sake of a _grade_. It’s the kind of thing bad TV melodramas and newspaper scandals are made out of, but…

But he can’t fail either. He can’t let himself be set back a whole year. He can’t have that mark on his record. He can’t go back home after the semester’s over, and face that disappointment in the eyes of his family. He wants so much to be more than just ‘Wayne’s ward.’ Which means he _needs_ this chance.

Whatever he has to do to get it.

Swallowing thickly, Dick closes his eyes for a moment. The restless bouncing of his leg against the floor stops as he tries to center himself and calm down, though the hard press of his fingers into his thighs doesn’t.

Then, praying and praying that he’s right and not about to get kicked out of Slade’s office, he turns his head down and presses his lips to the tip of his teacher’s thumb.

“Grayson.” Slade says quietly, but there’s no rebuke in his tone, and Dick swallows again before following up the first kiss with another. Then another. He kisses down the length of Slade’s hand, keeping his eyes closed, until suddenly his chin is grasped and his head turned back up again, forcing him to open them.

The look that’s in Slade’s eye now is beyond intense.

“You sure about this, kid?”

 _Isn’t this what you want?_ Dick wants to shout back, but instead, he forces himself to simply nod. He doesn’t trust his ability to speak right now.

Luckily, a nod seems to be all the confirmation Slade requires, and when he kisses him, pushing Dick back against his chair to do it, it’s different than any other kiss he’s ever experienced. Oh, he’s kissed boys before, certainly, felt the rough graze of stubble against his jaw instead of smooth skin, but not like this, not like with Slade. Those kisses were hesitant, experimental, but this one is not. Slade is confident, and knows exactly what he’s doing when he takes Dick’s mouth with his own.

It’s almost enough, in the initial moments, to make him forget the circumstances of the kiss. That’s it’s not one of his idle daydreams in the middle of class or in his dorm room. It’s real, and that fact is no more apparent when Slade draws back and says to him, in a firm voice, “If you’re serious about this, you do exactly what I say. Okay, Grayson?”

Dick bites the corner of his lip. “It’s… I haven’t, I never…”

“That’s all right.” Slade says, more gently this time, “I understand. It can be intimidating, your first time, but I promise I’ll take care of you. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you, Dick?”

The use of his name, his actual, _first_ name, startles him. “It’s not… not my _first,”_ he emphasises, “I just meant with a…”

“Man?”

Dick nods, and Slade smiles. This time he kisses Dick’s cheek, then the corner of his eye, the centre of his forehead. It feels tender, gentle, in a way Dick never would have expected from him. “Sir…”

“Stand up, Grayson.”

Trying not to think about what he’s doing too hard, Dick does as he’s told and gets to his feet. Standing in front of Slade doesn’t feel so intimidating as sitting, but still he’s nervous, not knowing what to expect. Luckily, Slade doesn’t give him much time to think about it.

A hand winds around the back of his neck, large enough for a thumb and fingers to press at either side of throat, tilting his head up to make the angle easier for them both. The kiss remains gentle as Slade’s other hand finds his waist, warm and solid even through the barrier of his shirt. Then there’s a coaxing flicker of a tongue at his bottom lip, asking more than demanding that he give what Slade wants from him, and this at least is familiar. Dick knows how to play this side of things; maybe he’s never gotten any farther than this with a man, but Kori was tall and strong and dominant enough that this, now, doesn’t feel too unfamiliar.

He fights down a shiver and lets his lips part. The approving hum of sound feels like a reward, and there’s a part of him that just melts into relaxation. This, at least, Dick knows he can succeed at; he’s been good at sex for years, and just because this is a new variety doesn’t mean the skills don’t carry over. He can kiss, he can touch, and that has to be good enough.

Slade’s tongue slides into his mouth, bringing the sharp, bitter taste of coffee with it. It’s exploratory, almost gentle; an oddly pleasing contrast to the unfamiliar scrape of a beard against his chin. Dick’s hands lift on automatic, coming to settle on Slade’s broad shoulders as his head is tilted further back, and his fingers curl into the fabric of Slade’s shirt. It draws tight quicker than he expected, and an unfamiliar curiosity makes him ease his grip back out and wrap his fingers around the actual arm beneath the shirt, and—

Wow. That… That’s some muscle. That’s way more muscle than he was expecting. Kori was head of the basketball team, and Dick’s not ashamed to say that his own arms have never matched hers, but these are a whole weight class above anything he’s personally known. He is suddenly, _intensely_ curious what exactly is underneath the semi-formal shirt.

There’s a last flick of tongue against his, before Slade straightens just enough to break the contact.

About all Dick can manage, after a small breath, is a slightly awed, “ _Woah_.” Maybe he squeezes the biceps under his hands a little bit, just to feel it.

Slade chuckles, mouth curling into a small smirk. “Surprised, Grayson? I’m sure I’ve mentioned my military past in class before.”

“I… Maybe once or twice. I think.”

The hand in his hair comes loose, sliding around to cup his cheek, a thumb sliding over his skin. Slade meets his eyes with that same quiet amusement. “I joined when I was sixteen. Served a few decades before I left; got into teaching. It’s a nice pension; but I enjoy the freedom I have now.”

Dick swallows. “And, how long ago was that?”

Another laugh, and Slade leans in to kiss him again. He’s still in that kiss when the hand on his waist urges him to turn, and then to take one step back. Two. The back of his thighs hits something, and it takes him a startled moment to realize it’s the desk as Slade presses into him, leans him just a couple inches back. One of his hands starts to drop down to brace against the desk, but Slade’s is already spreading out over his lower back, keeping him balanced with an easy sort of strength. After a moment of hesitation Dick trusts his weight to that hand, comforting that panicked little part of him that thinks he might fall by curling his fingers into Slade’s shirt once more.

That earns him another hum of approval.

The hand at the back of his head curls in contrast, fingers tangling in his hair and then lightly pulling at it. It’s automatic to let his neck get bent back, the kiss breaking as his head falls back, and it’s not really a surprise that Slade’s mouth falls to his jaw, then his neck. Still gentle, so there’s only the passing thought that there maybe shouldn’t be any marks left behind from this encounter; not enough to even make him really think about it before it vanishes again.

A flick of Slade’s tongue against the hollow of his throat makes him gasp. Dick doesn’t know whether to congratulate or curse himself for choosing to wear a shirt with a low-cut collar today. “Slade…”

“You’re beautiful, Grayson.” Slade cuts him off, distracting Dick before he can say anything else. “Beautiful.”

Slade pushes him further, tugging gently on his hair until Dick realises what’s wanted of him. He manages to scramble up so that he’s actually sitting on the edge of the desk, rather than just leaning against it. The moment he does, Slade’s hands are sliding in under his shirt, pushing it up his chest. Dick shudders at the feeling of those calloused palms pressing against his smooth skin. More so, when Slade squeezes one of his nipples between two fingers, sending a sharp bolt of heat through his stomach.

“Shit,” he gasps, holding onto Slade’s back. Dick’s fingers curl into the white cotton of his shirt, wrinkling. “Sir… _Slade_..”

“Responsive,” comes the dark chuckle against his ear before Slade nips it, “I like that.”

Having it pointed out to him is embarrassing, but also pleasing too. The way Slade’s deep voice sounds when it’s complimenting him… Dick wants to hide his face, even as he shivers in delight. It’s the voice he’s heard in a number of shamefully sticky dreams he’s had, all the more conflicting now that he’s hearing it in real life.

“Lift,” Slade says, while Dick’s still thinking about that, pulling his shirt higher. It’s not quite an order, but not really a request either. Dick raises his arms up, too far out of his depth to consider doing anything other than what he’s told, and bites his lip when he realises he’s now sitting half-naked in front of his professor. A fact driven home by the way Slade smiles at him as his eye trails up and down Dick’s torso. “Mm, not too shabby yourself, are you?”

Dick swallows as Slade’s fingers return to his nipple. “W-what?”

“Your muscles.” Slade clarifies, his other hand squeezing Dick’s waist. “You work out.”

“ _Oh_. Right. Right, yeah. I uh…” he bites his lip as Slade bends down to lap his tongue over his clavicle. “I do gymnastics. And Aikido.”

“Unusual combination.”

He laughs a little, the sound nervous and high-pitched. “My guardian’s big on us knowing self-defence, and my real parents were trapeze artists in a circus. I um, grew up learning from them.”

“Interesting.” Slade says. The hand on Dick’s waist slides down to his hip, then skirts round the hem of his jeans to his ass. Dick’s breath catches as Slade squeezes it. “I never would have expected that.”

“No one ever does.” Dick admits.

Slade’s mouth travels lower down his chest, trailing wet kisses over his skin. He drags Dick slightly forward across the desk, pushing his way in between his legs. So close, Dick can smell his aftershave, his sweat. The pure masculine scent of him before Slade goes even further, mouth on his stomach and thumbs tracing his Apollo’s belt. He makes a sound, something between a gasp and a whimper he thinks, as his hands tighten further in Slade’s shirt.

“What’re you—”

“Shh. I’m going to make you feel good, Grayson. You want that, don’t you?”

As opposed to the alternative? Of course he does. But that doesn’t stop Dick from feeling nervous as Slade undoes the fastening of his jeans. As an impossibly huge hand reaches in, past the wall of his underwear, and takes hold of his cock.

“Oh,” Dick bites his lip at the feeling of rough calluses stroking over his extremely sensitive flesh, “Oh... I…”

But Slade’s not done yet. Upon getting Dick’s cock free of his underwear, he proceeds to bend his head down and lavish a long lick across the head of it with his tongue. Every nerve ending gathered sings, and Dick has to clap his hand across his mouth to stop from making a treacherously loud noise.

It might be after normal teaching hours. The door might be locked, the blinds closed, but that doesn’t mean much on a college campus. If someone were to overhear him… Dick can only imagine the shame it would bring. Derailing both his studies _and_ Slade’s career. He’s doing this to save himself, not to… not to…

It’s _very_ hard to think when Slade is doing that with his mouth.

Dick digs his fingers hard enough into the desk to make them ache, while continuing to keep his own mouth covered with his other hand. His thighs tremble, while the muscles of his stomach twitch. Hot, wet heat surrounds his cock, and for all his idle fantasies, Dick never imagined his teacher doing this to him. Never though Slade would be the one to get down on his knees.

His fantasies had always been a little darker. Slade on top of him, maybe even holding him down. Big, aggressive and perfectly in control. Not that what’s going on now isn’t good either, in fact it’s… it’s really damn good. Fuck.

Dick bites the inside of his cheek as he finally brings himself to look down. The sight of Slade’s lips sliding over his cock is obscene in a way it never was with his old girlfriends. Then again, they weren’t also his teachers, and when Slade stops to return his gaze, smirking, Dick can feel the nervous shake return to his body, threatening to throw him right off the desk.

Slade soothes him with gentle hands running over his thighs. Then he stands back up, slowly as if wary of spooking a wild animal. Gentle fingers grasp the wrist of the hand Dick has held over his mouth, tugging it away before Slade leans in to kiss him again.

This time, Dick tastes himself on his tongue. The flavour is salty, but not wholly unpleasant, which is good as Slade thoroughly plunders his mouth, licking his own tongue into every corner. It startles a muffled whine from Dick, whose hands soon return to grasping his professor’s shirt.

“Did you like that?” Slade asks him, saying against his lips after drawing back.

Breathless, Dick can’t immediately answer, but eventually he manages a nod, as well as a quietly whispered, “Yes.”

“Good.” A thumb brushes over his jaw, then down the length of his neck. “I wonder, would you do the same for me?”

“Would I…”

“You have a beautiful mouth, Grayson.” Slade kisses it again as if to emphasise his point, “It’s hard not to imagine how lovely it would feel around me.”

Dick swallows hard. He’s never given anyone a blowjob before, obviously. Only eaten girls out, which is much the opposite. “I don’t know… I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.”

“That’s all right, I wouldn’t expect you to be an expert your first time.” Slade chuckles, “Just try.”

It’s what Slade wants, Dick tells himself, and really, how hard could it be? He just does this and… and everything will be fine. He knows it will.

“Okay.” he agrees, hoarsely.

Dick gasps as Slade lifts him from the desk. Actually physically _lifts_ him, as if he weighs nothing. The hold only lasts a second, but Dick’s still a little breathless by the time Slade sets him back on the floor.

That’s… that’s certainly different. None of his ex-girlfriends could ever do that.

Slade’s hands stay around his waist. Dick swallows as, without hesitation or room for argument, he’s guided backwards, then round to the other side of the desk. One of Slade’s hands leave him for a moment, and Dick hears wood scraping over wood. Then he’s turned round, switching places with his professor, and can only watch dumbly as Slade moves to sit down in the chair he just moved back. “I… what do I…?”

“Here.” Slade grasps Dick’s hand, pulling him downwards. “This will be more comfortable.”

He ends up on the floor, kneeling in front of Slade and between his spread legs. Dick’s hands shake a little as he reaches for the fastening of Slade’s pants, more than self-conscious of the position he’s in, half-naked at his teacher’s feet and about to give him a blow job, all for the sake of a chance to save his grade (and maybe also a little bit because he wants to). He never in his life thought—

“You look amazing.” Slade tells him, stroking his hand through Dick’s hair as he pulls his zipper down. Dick’s ducks his head shyly, face blooming red as he reaches his hand inside his pants, past his underwear, and draws out his cock.

It’s big. Fuck, it’s — he’s big. Dick swallows hard, shuddering. He doesn’t know if he’s even going to be able to fit all that in his mouth, but Slade’s hand — still in his hair — reminds him that he said he’d at least try, and he means to. It’s just… he’s _really_ big.

“It’s all right, take your time.” Slade encourages him, reading more deeply into Dick’s thoughts than he’s strictly comfortable with.

It causes him to set his jaw, wary of Slade thinking less of him. Drives his stubborn need to do this and prove himself. It’s stupid, and on some level Dick knows that, but he can’t help it. Deciding it best to follow Slade’s earlier example, he starts by leaning forward and licking his tongue across the tip. The first taste makes him wrinkle his nose in surprise, and he hopes Slade doesn’t see it. It’s not that it’s unpleasant, just different.

“That’s it,” Slade says approvingly above him, “Just like that.”

The praise, small as it is, encourages him. Dick repeats the lick, then, slightly emboldened, takes the whole head of Slade’s cock into his mouth and sucks at it. Gratification for his daring follows a moment later when he hears Slade inhale sharply, the hand in hair clutching tighter.

“Use your hand as well.” Is the next instruction, and it’s easy for Dick to fall into the path of doing as he’s told. Taking the responsibility out of his own hands for his performance and placing it in another’s. He starts to move the hand he has wrapped around the base of Slade’s cock, stroking it up almost to where his mouth is and then back down again, before repeating the motion.

It takes some getting used to, but eventually he gets the rhythm down as he also bobs his head, guided to take more of that impressive length into mouth by Slade’s hand.

“Steady,” Slade murmurs, the first time he chokes a little. “Remember to breath.”

He sounds so calm, so steady and unaffected. Dick doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. But still, he listens, slowing down slightly as he also gets the hang of pacing his breathing alongside the motions of his head. He has about half of Slade’s cock in his mouth now, and despite everything feels weirdly proud about it.

Slade’s next words seem to reflect that. “Good boy,” he praises, “Keep going.” and so Dick does.

For how long, he’s not quite sure. The strangeness of the taste on his tongue fades away. The ache of his knees on the hardwood floor also, to be replaced by a new ache at the corners of his jaw as Slade gradually pushes him to take in another inch after inch. His eyes water slightly, and soon he stops trying to control his own movements altogether, simply following the tugs to his hair. There’s drool on his chin, Dick knows it, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to try and get Slade to stop.

Eventually he hears Slade let out a sound almost like a growl, the fingers in his hair tighten again, and his head is dragged forwards at an even quicker pace than before.

“Touch yourself,” Slade orders him, in a new, harsher tone of voice. “You hear me, Grayson? I want to watch you make yourself come.”

Dazed, Dick fumbles with his free hand to find his own cock; still painfully hard even after not being touched all this time. He whimpers at first, then moans around the heavy flesh in his mouth as bursts of sensation make themselves known to him, shooting up from his groin to curdle in his stomach. His skin feels too tight all over, as if he’s liable to burst out of it at any moment if he doesn’t get some relief. Sweat too, begins to drip down his body, making his hair stick to his forehead before Slade brushes it aside, single eye meeting Dick’s own when he raises them to look up at him.

“There you are.” he almost purrs, “Come on, faster now. Show me what you can do, boy. Let me see how good you look when you come. Show me how much you’re worth it.”

The words strike a deep chord within Dick. Dark and filthy. It’s wrong how they spur him on. Wrong how they push him to do what Slade says. He can’t breath as Slade pulls him down further, harder, finally getting the entirety of his cock into Dick’s mouth. Dick can feel the brush of his pubic hair against his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut, body wired taut between the twin feelings of what Slade’s doing to him and what he’s doing to himself.

When Dick finally comes, it’s like an explosion going off. His entire body jerks as his mind briefly whites out on pleasure, then sags downwards at the unsteady glow that comes after. It’s relief in its purest form, even as he almost surreally worries a little about the mess he’s inevitably made on the floor.

Then Slade drags his head back, until only the head of his cock stays resting in Dick’s mouth. The next thing he knows he’s gagging a little as the taste of hot semen suddenly floods over his tongue, threatening to spill over his lips even as Slade finishes pulling out. A wretched cough breaks free of his lips, and Dick quickly brings his (clean) hand to his mouth to try and keep himself from making it worse.

Shit. Fuck, he can’t…

Slade’s hands are suddenly on his cheeks. As if from afar, Dick hears him echo the same curse he’d just spoken in his head. When something soft touches the back of his hand, it takes him a solid five seconds to realise that it’s a tissue.

“Here,” Slade says kindly, a soft, slightly worried look to his gaze. “Spit it out, it’s alright.”

Dick fumbles his hand around until he manages to grab the tissue, then does as he’s told, before folding it up and using the clean part to wipe across his lips. As soon as he’s done, Slade takes it from him again, turning just enough in his chair that he can drop it into the waste paper basket that sits on the other side. “Do you…” he coughs a little more, “Do you have any water, please?”

“Of course.” Slade’s desk drawer rattles a little as he pulls it open. Dick takes the plastic bottle he hands him gratefully, twisting open the lid and taking a long sip. His throat feels instantly better, and it helps take some of the taste out of his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Slade’s hand returns to his hair, gently stroking it, and despite everything Dick finds himself leaning into the touch. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick mumbles, embarrassed. “Just… took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.” Slade immediately apologizes, “I meant to warn you, but… the way you looked…”

Dick feels the blush on his face deepen again. “It’s fine. I mean…” he looks up, clenching his fingers a little around the bottle in his hand, “You enjoyed it, right?”

Slade’s expression relaxes, relief playing out in a smile across his lips. “Oh I most certainly did that.” he chuckles. Then he shifts hand to Dick’s arm to tug him upwards, “Come here.”

Still dazed, Dick doesn’t think to argue. He lets himself be pulled off the floor, landing a moment later in Slade’s lap. He swallows as one of those powerfully muscled arms slides around his waist to hold him there.

“You did beautifully, Grayson,” Slade tells him, “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

The glow of pleasure flows back into being. “Dick,” he says quietly, “You can call me Dick, Slade.”

“Dick.” Slade nods, then kisses him.

It’s a different kiss than before, less hungry and overtly passionate. Dick lets himself sink into it, taking comfort in something that’s at least a little familiar to him. He’s breathless again by the time Slade pulls back, and shudders slightly at the rough push of a thumb against his reddened lips.

“It’s getting late,” Slade murmurs this time. “We should probably clean up and get out of here.”

“Oh,” Dick blinks, then swallows and nods, “Right. Yeah.”

Slade lets him slip off his lap, and Dick quickly hurries to tuck himself away before walking back round the front of the desk to find where his shirt has gone. It belatedly occurs to him that Slade himself didn’t end up removing even a single item of clothing during the encounter. He’s actually… actually a little disappointed about that, and can’t decide whether to be mad at himself for it.

“I’ll email you about retaking the test.” Slade says, standing up himself. Dick watched him straighten his shirt a moment before remembering to put his own back on. “I was thinking it might also help for you to take some private tutoring lessons before you do so. I’d be happy to arrange those with you too if you’re willing.”

Dick runs his hand back through his hair, hoping it doesn’t look too dishevelled for when he gets outside. He feels a little shaky still, and agrees before he even really processes what it is Slade just said. “I… yeah, uh, that’d be great. Please.”

“Of course.” Slade walks to the front of the desk as well, close enough to Dick that he has to lift his head sharply to look at him. “I know you can do this, Dick. You won’t let me down, will you?”

“No, sir. Slade.” Dick shakes his head a little. “I won’t.”

“Good boy.” Slade’s briefly touch his chin, “Then I’ll see you in my next class. Thursday, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“Excellent. I’ll have some more information for you by then. Now, go on, relax a little. You’ve earned it.”

Dick has enough sense left in him to remember to pick up his bag before he leaves Slade’s office, and once outside it has to take a moment, slumped against a nearby wall, to try and get his bearings back again. He has class with Slade on Thursday. Private tutoring sessions. Oh _God_. He just had sex with his teacher and...

He has _no_ idea how he’s going to get through this. Only that somehow, he has to.

Everything depends on it.

**Author's Note:**

> [Skali's Tumblr.](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Fire's Tumblr.](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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